


When the Doors and Windows Are Both Closed

by wook77



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:54:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wook77/pseuds/wook77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's realistic enough that, when he weighs the possible outcomes, that he might not make it through this alive.  He's just never thought that someone else would be the one to not make it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Give Us Hope and a Fighting Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the kinkmeme where I accidentally unanon'd myself so I thought I'd load it here, with a better title because I hate that title so much. New title is from a line further into the fic. Don't know that it's much better...
> 
> Original Prompt was (and can be found: http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/3710.html?thread=8539006t8539006):
> 
> Anon clearly is a mean person. I want to see some sad.
> 
> Anyway, I've seen a couple of fics where Shepard dies and Kaidan is the one having to move on in the aftermath of the victory against the Reapers. What I want is the opposite. I want to see a fic - after any ending, canon or headcanon, it doesn't matter - where Shepard survives, only to find out that Kaidan died during that last attack by Harbinger.
> 
> I want a Shepard who never even REALLY considered that he would survive the war, one who, when they let themselves think about it, only kind of had the notion of spending the rest of his life with Kaidan. The problem is, he was so sure he was going to die, he never really considered the possibility of surviving while Kaidan died.
> 
> MAKE ME CRY, ANONS!
> 
> And extra bonus internets for one of his crew mates - Garrus? Vega? - being the one to have to tell him that Kaidan is dead. The world for a glimpse into their thoughts on the matter.

John's realistic enough that, when he weighs the possible outcomes, that he might not make it through this alive. Hell, that's what he's going over when Kaidan comes in for his quick drink that turns into the best distraction he's ever had. John knows, damned well, that the fate of the galaxy is sitting on his shoulders, regardless of Kaidan pointing out how effective and skilled the crew is. He knows his crew is skilled just like he knows that the sun will keep spinning, whatever sun that might be. 

That isn't his concern. What is his concern is getting into the Citadel and finishing this battle. He's the one that they're all counting on. He's the head of the spear as it guts the Reaper fleet. The rest of the spear finishes the job but if he fails, the spear can't penetrate, no matter how sharp it is. So, yeah, he knows his crew is skilled and he knows that the entire galaxy is committed to ending the Reaper threat. 

He also knows they aren't all going to make it. He's made peace with the fact that, in most of his scenarios, he doesn't make it. He's gone up against just one Reaper and he'd almost gotten fried there a thousand and one times. And that was just one. This is going to be hundreds and thousands of them, instead. They've got to get through all of them, into the Citadel and take care of whatever is up there, too. 

Of course, the possibility of his survival is low but, and at this he pauses to take a look at where Kaidan reclines in the bed and watches him dress, he'd spoken true. With hope and a fighting chance, they're going to come out the other end. He's going to get that steak dinner with Kaidan and they're going to have it at his parents' house, a bottle of beer in his hand with condensation ruining the kitchen table that had survived since before any of Kaidan's family history can remember. He's a fighter and there is nothing that he won't do to get back as much time with Kaidan as he's wasted with his own cowardice with his refusal to say something, _anything_ in the three years that they've known one another. He's always had tunnel vision and, this time, his tunnel vision is focused on a trip, just for fun, with Kaidan. Maybe they'd spend it in Vancouver at Kaidan's childhood home or maybe they'd go back to Mindoir and visit his childhood home instead. Maybe they'd go to an unravaged world or maybe they'd head back to Eden Prime. Maybe they'd do a lot of things but they're going to get them because when John Shepard focuses, he's the head of a spear and there is no stopping that trajectory. 

That's why he refuses to say goodbye. He won't do it because this isn't goodbye, no matter what Kaidan says. He hasn't recorded a goodbye message for later and he won't because if he allows any glimmer of defeat into his thinking, then he's done. Finished. Besides, if he fails, then there won't be a trip to go on, anyway. If he fails, the galaxy fails and that goodbye message won't mean squat. 

It's with this thought that he runs towards the beam, darting around destroyed buildings, crumpled machines and broken bodies. It's with this thought that the world explodes around him. 

His lungs itch when he wakes and his throat aches. His eyes refuse to open and he can't see a damned thing. The bed is too soft against his back, especially since he has a fleeting memory of lying in rubble with his armor burnt and broken on his body. His head throbs and if the racing thrum is his pulse, then his heartrate is too elevated to be good for his body. 

He must've made a noise, not that he can hear it over the throbbing in his head, because there's cold and wet on his lips, drifting across the chapped skin and soothing his throat. Then, there's an intimate brush of a thumb across his lips, rubbing the moisture in. The touch is far too intimate to be anyone else and his heart soars with the knowledge that they've both made it. He breathes out, "Kaidan" and then slides back into unconsciousness with the feel of Kaidan's hand on his arm, fingertips soothing across his battered flesh. 

The next time he wakes, the room is dark and it's clear that he's in a med facility of some sort. His head still throbs and his lungs still itch. The seat next to his bed is empty and there's far too many machines for his comfort level. It almost looks like Kaidan's room in Huerta Memorial, back after Mars had shown him that Kaidan could be taken from him and that he needed to get off his ass and do something about the need he had for him. There's a beeping machine that's making his eye twitch. It takes an unbelievable amount of energy to let his head drift to the side to spot the glass of water sitting on the table. It takes even more effort to move his hand towards it, only to be interrupted by the shrill screech of that beeping machine as the room fills with doctors and nurses. 

By the time they're done, he's had a drink, sat up further, had his vitals monitored, double and triple checked, and, not a single question answered whether that question was 'where am I' or 'are the Reapers gone' or 'did any of my crew make it'. All he wants to know is if he's succeeded and where the hell the crew is at. Had he dreamed Kaidan's touch on his hand? 

All the activity, what little there was of it, wears him out to the point that he drifts back into sleep. He dreams of Kaidan's smile and the feel of his face under John's hands. He thinks of that last conversation and the way they'd kissed, armored hand against armored waist while their tastes mingled and held. If John concentrates enough on it, he can still taste Kaidan. He can still smell his unique smell.

It's there in his hospital room as he wakes once more. This time, the chair isn't empty. Cortez sits there, reading. "Steve?" 

"Hey, you're awake." Steve reaches out and touches his hand, dropping whatever he'd been reading onto the small table. "How you feeling?" 

"Want the truth?" John cocks an eyebrow and Steve grins at him. 

"Besides feeling like you went one on one against a Reaper." 

"Like I went one on one against a Reaper." He tries for a smile and his bottom lip cracks at the attempt, a sharp, unexpected pain that reminds him of everything. "How's it out there?" 

"Reapers are gone. Shut down, flew off, gone." 

"We won?" 

"You did it, Shepard. You did it." Steve grins at him but his eyes skitter to the side and John braces himself for his next question. 

"You… I'm glad to see you." He can't ask about the crew even though he wants to. He'll ask Kaidan when he gets here to visit. The news is sure to hurt and he's still the Commander and has enough pride that he doesn't want his crew to see him in anything other than a leadership role. 

"Yeah, wasn't certain I was going to make it, there, for awhile. Both shuttles are gone. The _Normandy_ looks like hell but they're repairing her. Good thing I'm such a good pilot, right?" Steve's smile is a bit more certain this time though he still doesn't make eye contact. 

"How are you doing?" And he means 'how is everyone' and 'where is the rest of the crew' and 'what the hell happened' and 'what am I missing out there' and 'where's Kaidan' and so many more questions. 

"Good. Helping to rebuild. Shuttling crews from place to place. It's not as exciting as shuttling you all over the place but it's good work." Steve's grin is real this time, as he relaxes into the chair, slumping slightly as he crosses one leg over another. "There's a crew working on getting the mass relay working again." 

"They went down?" Shepard almost regrets his question as soon as Steve straightens and fidgets once more, obviously uncomfortable with the question.

"You don't remember?" 

"I don't remember anything after getting hit by the blast." 

"Nothing after that?" Steve's eyes are flying around the room, lighting on screens and machines and the bedding and everywhere but John. 

"Nothing." 

"Look, Commander, sir, I'm, that is, I, I …" Steve's voice trails off as he continues to avoid looking at John. 

"You won't tell me. That's what you're saying, right?" Out of everyone, John had assumed that Steve would be the one that would get the need to know, that knowing is better than not knowing. That closure of some sort is important. Out of everyone on the _Normandy_ , Steve is the one guy that should've gotten it and John can't help the feeling of betrayal that sweeps over him. 

"I'm sorry, sir." 

"I appreciate the thought." John rolls his head away from Steve, can't take the way that he's squirming and looking awful. It's so obvious that something awful happened after he got hit by the beam and he'd rather know than any of this waiting until he gets better. Nothing can be worse than what his imagination is planting in his head. 

"Look, I gotta go. I'm due to ferry some scientists out to the relay and need to do a last check." 

"Sure thing, Steve. Good to see you." John keeps looking towards the blank wall, just realizing that there isn't even a window here for him to look out of. 

"Get some sleep, sir." 

"That's all I'm doing in here." 

"Right, then, um, I'll be seeing you." 

John can't stand to stare at the wall any longer, turning his head towards Steve as he slips out, just before the door slides shut, he asks, "You think you could mention to Kaidan that I could use a visit? I'm sure he's busy but…but I'd like to see him." 

"I've gotta go," Steve says, sounding strangled and pained, as he escapes out of the room.


	2. It's Going To Be What It Is

_Now what the hell had that been about?_ John wonders as he fumbles for the glass next to him. He has to have set off an alarm because they all start blaring again, making doctors invade his room as they poke and prod. One of them holds up something reflective and he gets a good look at himself. Hell, he wouldn't have recognized himself if he wasn't currently here, in his body. 

The Asari doctor tells him not to exert himself, to push a little button whenever he needs anything at all and then leaves. As if John's really going to summon the doctor for a drink or when he has to take a piss. She surely doesn't know him if she thinks that's going to happen. Within a few minutes of them leaving, he's bored out of his skull and feeling no pain. He wonders what they have him on, how long it's really been, where everyone else is at, why the Mass Relays went down and what happened after he'd gotten hit by Harbinger's laser. He can't remember a damned thing and he wishes he could. 

They'd been running towards the beam, John could feel the earth shaking underneath his feet as he'd sprinted and dodged his way towards Harbinger, he could hear his breath rattling in his ears and his lungs but he could also hear Kaidan and Garrus's pounding feet behind him. Then, the red and… nothing. Still nothing. He can't even remember being plucked off the street and brought here. With the brief glance of himself he'd been able to snag, something awful must've happened. 

He's glad to be alive. He's _lucky_ to be alive. It's probably all Miranda's hard work that saved him, all those extra upgrades and the synthetic skin and everything. He'll have to thank her, as soon as they let him out of this room. He gets the feeling that the medical red tape will be tying him to this bed a helluva lot longer than it did Kaidan to his bed in Huerta Memorial. 

Tired at just thinking about things, John drifts off to sleep again only to wake some time later to the feel of a hand on his. When he starts to open his eyes, he hears a murmur and a hand on top of his face, urging him to keep his eyes closed. He can smell Kaidan, that unique cologne and gun smell that Kaidan has. "Kaidan." 

"Shhh," he hears murmured at him again. "Shhh." 

"Want to see you." The hand on his clutches hard and then relaxes, going back to tracing circles on the back of his hand. There's no words but they don't need them, haven't ever needed them. They're better at actions and wasn't that old saying something about actions speaking louder than words, anyway?

Besides, keeping his eyes closed means that he doesn't have to deal with the throbbing pain of a headache and the piercing light that he can feel burning at his eyelids. "Guess I know how you feel when you get one of your migraines, huh?" 

"Sorry, Shepard?" Garrus's voice speaks out from beyond Kaidan, whose weight has disappeared from his face and hand. 

"Kaidan? Where'd you go?" John opens his eyes only to find that Kaidan is gone and Garrus is entering his room. 

"Shepard," Garrus says, his voice sounding heavy and tired and sad. "He's not here." 

"Where is he? He was just here." John looks around, eyes skimming every part of the room. He isn't sure how the hell Kaidan had slipped out so fast or even why he would've but, dammit. Garrus and Kaidan were getting along, weren't they? They'd gotten over the bullshit about betrayal and sticking with Shepard and trust and everything. Right? "You two aren't fighting again, are you?" 

"Shepard." Garrus's voice is even heavier, sadder. "Cortez mentioned that you didn't know." 

"Don't know what?" 

"When we…" Garrus trails off, words obviously failing him as he plays with the chair before sitting in it and then playing with the fabric hanging over the edge of the bed. John gets nervous, scared, because Garrus is never at a loss for words, not even when they'd faced down death itself. 

"When we? Spit it out." 

"Turns out that it isn’t either of us waiting in that bar, Shepard. Turns out that Kaidan's waiting for us to get there." 

_What the hell_ and _Huh_ and _What bar_ all trickle through his head as he tries to figure out what Garrus is saying. He's gaping, mouth open and air stuck in his throat. 

"Shepard? You're turning purple." Garrus reaches out and touches his hand, brushes his fingertips across John's skin in a tender gesture he's never, ever done before. They're friends, no-holds-barred friends but there isn't a lot of tenderness between them and that, more than anything, has him sucking in his breath as he realizes just what it is that Garrus is saying. 

"No." In his head, he yells the word, firm and harsh, demanding and arrogant, enough to back up the bullshit position that Garrus has taken. Kaidan was just here. Kaidan said he'd fight like hell and he was just here. He was just here and touching John. What really comes out, though, is a whispered denial, the word catching on the rock in his gut and the lump in his throat. It burns as it bounces its way out because either Garrus is the cruelest person in the universe or he thinks he's telling the truth. 

"I'm sorry. He… the beam hit a Thanix, made it flip and I don't think he even saw it. It happened so quickly. You were so far ahead and I was just behind and… " Garrus's hand clutches at his forearm and holds on while the alarms go off once more because John's heart is stuttering in his chest and he can't breathe, there isn't any oxygen here in this tiny little room. What sort of fucked up hospital is this that they don't have air cycling through?! What kind of fucked up world is this that Kaidan… that a … no. There's no way. "I'm sorry, Shepard." 

The doctors come rushing in and pull Garrus away, shunting him further and further as John watches until he's swallowed up by the mob of people around him. Doesn't matter if John can see Garrus or not, though, because all John can see is the pity in Garrus's eyes and that, more than anything, tells John that Garrus isn't lying and he is quite certain of what he's saying. 

Something impacts with his chest and air comes sweeping back into his chest and he's so bitterly upset over it, had appreciated the way that his vision had been dimming and blackness sweeping back in because he's never once contemplated a world without Kaidan in it. This hadn't been in any of his calculations. He'd calculated that Kaidan would survive because he'd been with John and that miscalculation has cost Kaidan his life. He's killed Kaidan, as surely as if he'd tossed that Thanix himself. 

After that, they ban Garrus from his room. As if that helps a single thing. Cortez hasn't visited again and John doesn't know if anyone else made it and that's fine with him. He's got too much to think about to deal with knowing whether or not he's failed anyone else, if he's gotten anyone else killed by placing them where they'd been. 

He'd prefer to sleep, had thought to avoid everything with sleeping but his dreams are anything but peaceful. In some of them, Kaidan stares at him, eyes accusing as his face melts and his body turns to dust. In others, John runs after Kaidan, only to see the Thanix flip through the air and erase him from sight. No matter how much John lifts and scrambles, fingernails ripping out of the beds, he can't get the damned thing to move. 

The worst ones, though, are the ones where Kaidan cups his face, kisses him, embraces him, touches him, smiles at him. Loves him. The ones where Kaidan is alive and John just wants to stay there forever, watching English Bay or walking through an orchard even though he'd never found out what sort of orchard Kaidan's parents had had. 

So John stops sleeping except when the doctors drug him and send him off to such a deep sleep that, if the dreams haunt him, he doesn't remember them. His waking hours are boring, filled with staring at walls and counting the cracks across the ceiling when the doctors aren't making him move an arm or walk across the room. He doesn’t even realize how many days have passed, how long he's been lying here just barely living, when Vega shows up. 

"About damned time," Vega mutters as he grabs the chair to the side of the bed and flips it around so that he straddles it with his arms resting on the back of it. "Damned doctors, man," he says, as if John should have a clue what he's talking about.

"Yeah," John says back. 

"You about ready to blow this joint?" Vega stares at him, making him see Vega for the first time. John's gotten used to being by himself, to just lying here and not doing anything, not seeing anyone except for when the doctors sedate him. It's weird to come out of the zone that he's been in. 

"Doctors want me here for awhile." 

"Not what I hear, Loco. I hear the doctors are about to release you out into the wilds." 

"Yeah?" John tries to muster up a smile or something other than the grimace he feels sweeping over his face. It's easier in here, where no one expects anything from him other than silence and an adherence to orders. 

"Yeah, so I brought you some clothes, get you out of that stunning gown you're currently wearing." Vega chuckles at his words as he gestures towards the fabric the hospital has for him to wear. It's not really a gown any more than it's a toga. It's more just a drape of fabric that sort of covers everything that it needs to, not that John cares who looks at his regenerating body. John doesn't care if his body even bothers regenerating. Doesn't matter, in the least, because fuck it, who cares, the world's not anything more than these four walls except for how Vega's insisting on more than them. "We can take a walk on the wild side, head on out into the hallway. Maybe even live large and walk down the stairs or something." 

"Not today." For a moment, John wonders how petulant he'd appear if he were to flip on his side and show Vega his back. Maybe the petulance would be worth it if it got Vega to leave but John knows Vega would only grab him and flip him over, maybe even sit on him. 

"Yeah, today. I don't want to see your ass, though, so you and me, when we go slowdancing in the hallway, we'll be dressed. You need me to do up your pants or you think you're man enough to do it yourself?" 

Vega tosses the clothes onto his chest. John goes along with it, thumbing through the clothes. "What, no underwear?" 

"You want me to touch your chonies, you need to buy me a beer first." Vega winks at him and John's heart stutters in his chest as he flashes back to the way that Kaidan had insisted on the Canadian lager and a steak sandwich, smile shy and flirtatious, all at once, the way that John's palms had gone sweaty at the want and need shining in Kaidan's eyes, in his hesitant words as they sat there on the Citadel, confessing to years of everything between them. "I just fucked up, didn't I, Commander?" 

"It's fine, Vega. Step out and I'll get dressed." He's quiet when he says it, ignoring everything but the task at hand. He plans the mission, the steps to pulling on his clothes. 

Step one, remove the blanket off his lap.  
Step two, sit up.  
Step three, remove the gown.  
Step four, separate the shirt from the rest of the pile.  
Step five, unfold – 

"I'll be outside." Vega saunters out of the room, breaking John's concentration. What had he been doing? Where did the clothes come from? Why do they smell like cologne and gun? 

No. 

_No._

_**No.** _

He isn't going to do this anymore. No more mourning and being a vegetable. No more hiding in this room. No more of any of it. Kaidan hadn't even bothered to make a promise to him. He'd said goodbye, hadn't trusted in John's plan and he's not going to reward that. He's not going to mourn the bastard if Kaidan couldn't even have been bothered to promise, to at least try to survive.


	3. I Lied, I Didn't Come Here For a Quick Drink

He's so unbelievably angry at Kaidan for dying, for stealing his last few days and making him stare at walls rather than going out there and doing what needs to be done. As if it isn't bad enough that Kaidan had gotten himself killed, he's stolen John's time, had taken John's heart and crushed it under a truck. 

His hands shake as he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and unfastening everything until he's sitting bare. They continue shaking as he pulls the shirt over his head and smooths it down over his stomach and then tries for the pants. Waves of dizziness sweep over him as he bends towards his feet while muscles shriek at him from his back. He's sweating and nauseous by the time he's struggling to stand and yank the pants up. When he gets them up, they're a bit too long, hanging over his toes. 

It's only after he gets them fastened that he realizes why they're hanging over his toes and his anger dissipates as quickly as it'd come on. These aren't his pants. That's why the pants smell like cologne and gun. They're _his_. John's knees collapse out from under him and he slides against the bed to the floor, his face pressed into the folded knees as he struggles for a hint more of the scent.

He's so focused on catching a whiff of Kaidan that he doesn't hear the door slide open so it's a shock when a hand comes down on the back of his head and rubs at the tense muscles there. Startling out of the moment, John looks up to see Vega staring at him while his hand's gentle on John's skin. "He'll be missed, sir." 

"Let's just get this over with," John mutters. He can't take tenderness from anyone right now, especially his crew. It'd been bad enough with Garrus but Vega? He hadn't even realized that Vega could have that soft of a voice, that soft of a hand. 

"Up and at 'em then." Vega reaches a hand out and helps John to his feet. The speed makes the dizziness and nausea come back as Vega steadies him and then puts his arm around John's waist, helping him shuffle forward. His ankle screams at him as he puts weight on it. The doctors had tried to tell him what was wrong with his body, what all damage he'd done but he hadn't bothered listening. Now, he wishes that he had because his hip joints join the chorus of screams while his back finally quiets down. 

They're silent as they cross through the doors and out into the hallway. John tries not to look into the other rooms, tries to focus on his feet only, one foot in front of the other, until they're done and he can go back into his room where he can pretend that Kaidan lives and is just too busy to visit. 

A third set of feet join them, making John look up to see Cortez standing in front of him. "About damned time, Esteban." 

"Some of us were out working, Mister Vega." Cortez glares at Vega before looking at John quickly before his gaze slides off to the side. He sounds guilty as he says, "Good to see you up and walking, Commander." 

"I'm tired," John says in response, turning around to head back to his room. Vega turns with him and they're all silent as they head back.

As soon as they're through the door, John stumbles his way back to the bed, sitting on the edge. Even though it feels like it takes him years to get settled, it's still a short enough time that he can see that Vega and Cortez didn't completely follow him into the room. Instead, they're having a fierce, whispered conversation in the door. They either forgot about his rebuilt system that can hear better than normal or they don't care as they hiss and spit at one another about visiting and talking and comforting. 

"I'm right here." 

"Sorry, Commander. Vega here just wanted – "

"You here to play good cop bad cop to get me back out into the land of the living?" 

"No, sir," Cortez is quick to say but John can tell that's exactly what they're here for with the way that Cortez still refuses to make eye contact. 

"Tell me something, Cortez. When you lost Robert, how'd you feel when everyone wouldn't look at you?" He's harsher than he'd planned, he can tell from the flinch that Cortez gives and the way that Vega's back straightens and he steps in front of Cortez. "At least you got to hear first hand, yeah? Didn't have someone come in, someone you considered a friend and a comrade, who ran off instead of telling you, right?" 

"That's uncalled for, Commander." Vega steps into the room, blocking Cortez from John's view. 

"He's free to run off again. You're both free to leave. Consider yourself dismissed." John tugs one leg and then the other onto the bed, knees folded against his chest and his back aching once more but at least he has Kaidan's scent. 

"I get that you're grieving – "

"No, you don't. You don't get shit. Maybe I'll just start lifting weights to cope with it, huh? That working for you?" John can't stop the flow of the words. "Maybe I should've just been a pussy and ignored what I had in front of me. You think that would've protected him? Hell, you're both still here and I didn't give two shits if you'd lived or died and you're here. It worked for you two, huh? You've been dancing around one another for how long and you're both still here and dancing around everything. Yeah, denial's working great at keeping you alive." 

"With all due respect, _sir_ , you're being a dick." Vega's back couldn't get any straighter than if there'd been a rod inserted along his spine. 

"Yeah, well." John shrugs a shoulder. "Great visit. We should do this again some time."

Vega turns on his heel and strides out of the room. John feels powerful at that moment, happy that he'd gotten rid of at least one of them. Cortez, though, comes into the room and sits in that fucking chair. 

"A great man once said to me that the past would always be mine, no one could take it away from me." Cortez still doesn't look at him. 

"Yeah, well, he was talking out his ass to get his pilot to concentrate on his job instead of his dead husband. It was all self-serving bullshit." The barb hits squarely, causing Cortez to flinch. 

"Still, it made sense. It's hard to get beyond the loss, especially when there isn't a body. It's hard to believe that they're gone when you don't have that proof. Sometimes, it comes back at the worst possible moments, like when you're trying to help your friend out like he helped you. Sometimes, you aren't as healed as you thought you were." Cortez, finally, looks at him, staring at him. This time, John can't bear to make eye contact so it's his gaze that skitters to the side. "I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you, Commander. I failed you." 

"You failed me when you crashed the shuttle instead of helping us. We all took a beating at that point, made us slower on the run. Hell, Kaidan and Garrus took a few shots. You're lucky that Garrus made it." It doesn't make any logical sense even to John but he doesn’t care because if it gets Cortez and the pity in his eyes out of the room, then he'll say whatever needs saying. 

"When I lost Robert and heard about _the_ Commander Shepard taking out the Collectors later, I blamed you, for just a little bit. I blamed you for not saving the colony and letting Robert die so if it helps you, then you can blame me." 

"People die. It's the way it is. Soldiers know the score." He blocks the memory of Kaidan's voice telling him that as he parrots the words, the taste of them bitter. 

"Doesn't make it hurt any less." 

More hurtful words sit on John's tongue, words about how quickly Cortez had seemed to finally get over Robert's death and had flirted with Vega and John, how he'd been gagging for a good fucking instead of whatever stage of grief he should've been in but John bites them back. He's been enough of a bastard and hurting Cortez isn't going to make anything better. Instead, he stares straight ahead as Cortez fidgets and opens his mouth before shutting it and then opening it again. 

"You want me to bring you anything?" 

"No." 

"Not even a book or something?" 

"Nothing." 

"They're going to let you out tomorrow. The _Normandy_ crew's been sticking together so far. We have a barracks together that we thought you'd appreciate transferring into. That way, we can keep the reporters and everyone away while you heal." 

"Doesn't matter." 

"It will," Steve says with certainty. "I'll see you tomorrow, Commander. Maybe the staff will let Garrus back in." 

The silence creeps in until John realizes that Cortez is expecting some sort of response from him. "Yeah," he says, to fill the silence. 

Cortez stands and salutes quickly then leaves John alone with his thoughts. It only takes as long as the door swishing shut behind Cortez for him to feel guilty about what he'd said to Vega and Cortez. He's angry at himself and he's so angry at Kaidan right now. This isn't the way that it was supposed to go down. A fucking missile truck overturning and he's lost the only hope he'd had. 

There isn't going to be a trip with Kaidan's mother off-planet, no quiet time at a relaxation hotspot, no steak dinner fed to one another from fingertips waiting to get licked and tasted. There isn't going to be any more kissing and touching and loving. There isn't going to be a trip to Mindoir to show Kaidan the homestead or a trip to Vancouver to watch English Bay. There's not going to be dancing in the streets and hugging and singing. 

The first wretched sob startles him from his thoughts. He'd had no idea that he's crying until it catches in his throat. Angrily, he swipes at his cheeks and his eyes before pressing his forefinger into his teeth, trying to stem the flow. He's John Fucking Shepard and he isn't going to cry. There are things that need to be taken care of, once they release him. He's taken too much time for himself and, now with the emptiness dawning in front of him, he's got the time to keep being John Fucking Shepard. He refuses to cry over this emptiness in front of him, the absence of the plans he'd barely thought about, not when he can use it productively to atone for his lack of planning in the rush up to the end. Obviously he hadn't planned it out enough but he can rectify it now.


	4. When This is Over, I'm Going to be Waiting for You.

And that's just what he does in the following days, as he's moved out of the hospital, given his orders on how best to recover and what he should do. He pushes everything away except for getting through this and atoning. Even though he has a cane, he's out there helping move rock and rubble. If using his biotics reminds him of Kaidan, he suppresses that, too. 

He's gotten brilliant at ducking away from the overprotectiveness of Garrus and Vega, who try to maneuver him into lighter duties and away from the work that tires him out and lets him sleep without dreams. They're not subtle as they dog his every footstep, suggesting frequent breaks and pointing out other things that need doing. He'd almost punched Vega just yesterday when the man had suggested completing requisition forms rather than helping clear rubble. 

The tiredness helps him to escape from the whispered conversations that the rest of the crew has when they think he's asleep. He hates the pity the most but the protectiveness also gets him. Garrus and Vega have even roped Traynor into watching over him, suggesting chess rather than work when his hands shake and his breath rattles on some mornings. 

As if chess is going to distract him from the fact that no one has seen Liara since that final battle and that's probably his fault, too, considering she'd been on the run to the beam with Kaidan and him. Not that he thinks too much about that, instead concentrating on moving rocks, because thinking about Liara means thinking about her missing and then thinking about her little memory boxes. He doesn't want to think about Kaidan's entry nor his own. He doesn't want to contemplate if Liara added in that John had finally had love and lost it before he'd grown a pair and confessed that that was exactly what it was. He doesn't want to think about any of that so he plays chess with Traynor when Vega gets too protective or Garrus tries to subtly maneuver him towards the barracks when his hands shake and his breath catches. 

As if chess is going to distract him from the way that Joker sits in the corner of the barracks and stares at nothing at all. If John has to spend any sort of time with anyone, he'd rather spend it with Joker. Joker's silence is what John wants, there's no pitying looks or conversations that stop as soon as he's noticed. Instead, Joker's grief echoes his own. The wall it puts up keeps even Allers away when she begs for an interview from him. Like he's going to put on a happy face and salute the galaxy, if it were even possible. Besides, even if he agreed, where would she broadcast them? 

The physical exertion means that he's too tired to dream any dream at all so John pushes himself further, every day, doing exactly what he'd mocked Vega about doing. The hypocrisy doesn't escape him and neither does an apology. Anything to keep the dreams of Kaidan's smile far away from him. 

He's out in the field, working to resurrect a destroyed apartment building so they can have more civilian housing when he realizes that his watchdogs are no where to be found. Grateful for the momentary reprieve, he slides down the wall until he's crouched in a corner so he can take a break without Garrus and Vega forcing him back to the barracks. His arms ache, his back aches and he swears that he can feel his pulse in his spleen but he'll stay out here for as long as possible. 

With shaking hands, he lifts the water bottle to his lips and tries to drink, resulting in water dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt. Kaidan's shirt but it's all semantics now. His fingertips brush across his jawline as he wipes at the water before reaching up to his lips and pressing fingertips there, instead. The air, filled with dust and rot, seems to disappear as he tries to catch his breath. He doesn't even know why he can't breathe, why everything has narrowed to the feel of fingers on his face and lips. 

_The hospital_. He remembers the hospital and the way that someone had rubbed moisture into his abused lips. In a vain attempt to recreate it, his fingertips rub the moisture into his lips once more as air comes sweeping into his lungs, scented sweet and filled with memories. 

He doesn't have time for this, doesn't want this. Idly, he wonders how much a body is supposed to take, how much of a burden a soul can bear until it shatters under the weight of all the suffering. It's then that he hears the voices on the other side of the broken wall. 

"I made the call."

"Yeah? It's all arranged then?" Garrus and Vega, speaking about him again. 

"Should happen soon. Hopefully it works because otherwise, I'm afraid he'll…" 

"The Commander wouldn't do that." 

"You didn't see his reaction when I had to tell him. We need to work out shifts, try to keep Joker and Shepard together so we can watch them closer." 

"Neither of them is the sort to – "

"These are unique circumstances. I've been with Shepard for three years and I've never once seen him as happy as he was in the past few weeks." 

"He's a good soldier and – "

"He's no longer a soldier. There is no enemy to get lost in, no battle to fight and sacrifice in. He's a glorified handyman, like the two of us are." There's a pause and then Garrus sighs. "Come on. You go left, I'll go right and hopefully we find him. Try to get him back to the barracks." 

John waits until he hears them leave and then cuts through the middle. By the time they find him, he's panting and can't feel his fingertips, a bonus as far as he's concerned. He's so tired that he sleeps soundly that night, soundly enough that he misses Garrus and Vega when they abandon him to Traynor's chess and Joker's silence. 

That night, his dreams are filled with Kaidan smiling and laughing, with kisses and brushes of hand against hand. As he sleeps, he flips on his side and slides backwards, further and further, searching out the weight of Kaidan at his back (always at his back, never a doubt that Kaidan has his back). He wakes to the feel of falling out of bed. 

Of course, Steve hurries over and helps him stand, brushing a hand down his body as if to check for bruises on top of his bruises. "I'm fine," he whispers harshly, trying not to wake anyone. 

"Just checking to be sure." Steve flashes him a smile, white teeth catching the reflected moonlight through the open holes where windows used to be. 

"I'm fine. Go back to watching me and let me sleep." 

"I'm not watching you." 

"Bullshit." 

"I'm watching Joker." 

_Oh._

"Want to watch him with me? He doesn't sleep well." 

There are so many cruel words on John's tongue but he bites them back because if anyone here knows that you can't sleep when you lose your other half, it's Cortez. John nods and follows Cortez to his bunk, both of them sitting on the mattress and pressing side to side. "How're you really doing?" Cortez asks. 

"Better. Every day is better." It's not the truth but the truth will only end up with him being relegated to even more watchdogs so he makes it sound as believable as possible. He's not going to off himself, no matter what Garrus and Vega think. He just needs to keep busy, keep a step ahead of the grief and loss, remind himself that others have lost more than he has and they're still forging forward. 

"That's good." Cortez breathes next to him, lulling John into a half-asleep state. In it, he can pretend that it's Kaidan next to him, even though Cortez smells all wrong. Before he knows it, his head is resting on Cortez's shoulder and he's pressing his nose into the crook where shoulder and neck meet. "Sleep, John. It'll be better in the morning." 

"Yeah? You ever believe that?" 

"Not really. Still, helped to know that someone out there cared enough to lie to me." 

"Like you're lying to yourself about Vega?" 

"Jimmy and me, we work as we are." 

John snorts in response, keeping himself where he is as Cortez moves so that his arm is around John's shoulders, pulling him in close enough that John can feel the rhythm of Cortez's heartbeat under his cheek as his hand slides up to rest over that heartbeat. "You'll regret it someday." 

"Probably. Busy day tomorrow, I hear Garrus wants you to go in to the hospital and get checked out again. I hear you've missed all of your checkins." 

"Don't need a doctor to tell me what I know already. I'll be fine. Just need to keep moving." His words slur as he slides closer to sleep. Cortez doesn't respond other than to rub a hand against the back of John's neck, driving him further into sleep. John lets him, keeping his eyes closed so he can pretend that it's someone else's touch. 

In the morning, he's alone in the bunk and Traynor is playing chess with Joker. Muttering excuses, John dresses and heads out to tire himself out once more. He manages to avoid Vega and Garrus all day, probably by luck rather than by design. 

When he comes back to the barracks, he finds an unknown woman sitting on his bed, fiddling with dogtags that he knows, fucking well _knows_ had been hidden beneath his mattress. There's no one else in the room, not even Joker. He's beyond pissed that someone had allowed this area to be invaded, allowed his private things to be touched. "Those are private property, ma'am. This entire area is private so if you'll tell me where you're supposed to be, I'll help you get there." 

"John." It's said so matter-of-factly. It takes John's brain a few minutes to catalog her features and connect the dots and everything he's been pushing off, ignoring as it festers in his gut so he can't eat and he can't sleep unless he's beyond exhausted, all of it comes rushing to the surface because there, in this woman's face, is Kaidan looking back at him, slightly feminized and with a different nose but the eyes and the shape of the face and the lips are all the same. "Kaidan told me so many things about you that I feel like I know you already." 

"Missus Alenko." He's frozen where he stands as he watches her approach, the dogtags in her hand. "I…" 

"I know," she says before she enfolds him in a hug. "Whatever it is you're about to say, I know." 

It's a good thing she does because he doesn't. He doesn't know what he wants to say, what's appropriate and what's inappropriate and whether to tell her to get away from him or hold him closer, whether to give him back those dogtags or take them far far away from him. Whether to tell her that he's still wearing her dead child's pants or that he sleeps with Kaidan's pillow, retrieved from the _Normandy_. He doesn't know what to tell her so it's a good thing that she knows, instead. 

"I hear you're not sleeping." 

"Ma'am?" 

"I also hear you're not eating and working yourself into the ground. You think Kaidan would've wanted that? You think he'd be all right with you not taking care of yourself?" 

"Ma'am, I – "

"My boy and I have always been close, probably closer than a mother and son should be. Boys should be close to their fathers but Kaidan always confided in me. When he thought he'd abandoned you to die, you should've seen him." She steps back, grabbing on to his hands and entwining their fingers as she holds them away from their bodies and then uses them to drag him towards his bunk. "He looked a lot like you, with the bags under his eyes and his clothes fitting worse and worse as he refused to eat. He talked a lot about all of these regrets he had. I bet they're similar to what you're feeling right now." 

John trails along after her as she speaks until he's seated with her, staring at the other bunks in front of them and the assorted knickknacks that adorn the tables and trunks scattered in between. 

"When you came back, then he had a whole host of other regrets. He once told me that the happiest day of his life was seeing you again and that it was the worst day of his life, too, because he'd been so cruel to you. He was quick to judge, wasn't he?" 

John nods in response. 

"My boy always had to make quick judgments, starting from the time that… well, I'm sure you know. And he was stubborn, so stubborn. I thought maybe he'd never find someone but, then, he wrote me, told me about how he'd finally talked to you and that you'd said yes. He wrote me, just before the end. I don't think I've ever gotten such a happy letter from him. He loved you. You know that, right?" 

John lets her words wash over him as he clutches at her hand. "Yes, ma'am."

"I can tell you that, someday, you'll just remember that, that you'll remember how much you loved him, too, and right now will dull and fade but that it won't go away. I would tell you to trust me but until you go through it yourself, it's really hard to have that trust." She reaches out a hand and turns his face to look at her. Her hand on his cheek feels so different from Kaidan's that he can bear the touch long enough to obey. "Until you get that trust, you need to stop pushing away those that love you in different ways. Your friends care about you or else I wouldn't be here. You don't have to be the pillar of strength here." 

"There's so much that needs done that I don't have time to – "

"To give my boy the mourning he deserves?" 

"It's my fault, ma'am." He whispers it, not realizing until this very moment that, yes, it really is all his fault. It's not Steve's fault for crashing the shuttle and it's not Garrus's fault for not switching places with Kaidan. It's not anyone else's fault but his. 

"It's your fault that the Reapers came? Or is it your fault that the Council didn't listen? Is it your fault that the galaxy didn't take the threat seriously? Maybe it's your fault that the truck went through the air? Perhaps you launched the truck at him?" She's looking at him with a disbelieving stare, one that he's seen so many times from Kaidan, the twist of the lips that says 'bullshit' to whatever it is that John's saying. 

"It's my fault he was there at all." 

"Is this my Kaidan we're speaking of?" She raises an eyebrow at him, her 'bullshit' expression going even further than before. "The stubborn one? You think he would've been all right with not going along? Perhaps you never knew him at all. That makes me sad." 

He knows what mindfuck game she's playing, trying to pass the blame to someone else but this is beyond the pale, there is no reason to blame Kaidan for his death. No reason at all. "It's not his fault." He tries for a smooth, steady voice. 

"It's not yours, either. It is what it is. My son is gone but he, thankfully, lived happily in dark days. That's what I'm choosing to concentrate on. His happiness was, sometimes, the only thing that kept me going after I lost my husband. It is so rare to find happiness in the best of times but in the worst?" She turns to him again and makes him look at her. There's surprisingly no pity on her face. Instead, she's smiling at him. "You'll remember the good and the bad but mainly the good. Eventually. When a door closes, a window opens. You just need to look for the window. It'll be there." 

"And when all the doors and windows are closed?" 

"Then you think like John Shepard and you blast a hole through the wall." She leans forward and busses a kiss across his forehead, a familiar smirk on familiar lips spreading across her face. His heart twinges but he can see what she means. "And you make sure you have back-up there because you never know what sort of thing is going to come through that hole." 

"Did Kaidan tell you about the time on Utukku?" Garrus steps forward and sits on the bed in front of Shepard. "Rachni, everywhere, no matter what path we went down. Without Kaidan and I, Shepard would've perished. Then again, that seems to be the theme of many of our adventures." 

Shepard shakes his head as Garrus starts to regale Missus Alenko with stories of her son. Of course, most of the stories revolve around Garrus being the hero. It didn't hurt quite as much as he'd expected to hear about Kaidan, not with his mother's hand in his and her head on his shoulder. Maybe she was right and he'd just have to blast a hole through the walls around him. His back up slowly coalesced, even Joker sitting down beside him, a half-smile on his face.


End file.
